


Sunshine and Shipwrecks

by MadHattaProductions



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 07:02:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13161741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadHattaProductions/pseuds/MadHattaProductions
Summary: In which Roadhog is a Dock Captain and Junkrat is a feisty sea-farer. It got a little longer than I expected it to.





	1. Shipwrecks

**Author's Note:**

> For Bambi, as a christmas gift that's running late. I hope you like it!  
> I'll be adding another chapter, but this is it so far :)

Life was a steaming pile of mess.

What else could it be? _Nothing_ had gone right in weeks and the shipments weren’t moving so well; attacks were occurring on-board the transport ships and supposedly around the docks. Business was booming but the shipments weren’t _moving_ and from what he’d heard it was nothing _human_.

Impossible, though, as far as all the tales were being told mermaids just weren’t _real_ and if they were they weren’t going to spend all their time attacking ships, right?

That is what the local organiser and overseer of the docks believed until approximately one year ago and it began with rumours. Tall tales, gossip and bullshit talks he called them but ship after ship went off missing with no reports once they hit the horizon and on more than one occasion after a cargo fleet was sent out did crews begin to insist on not going at all.

He wondered briefly how it came down to this solo voyage, and then wondered if he might die out here. He was no unwieldly maiden in distress, but he wasn’t exactly in his prime anymore and that struck him as his boat tossed and turned in the waves.

Yes; boat. It was less of a ship and more like a death-trap but at the least he was only travelling around the archipelago with at most three day trips from island to island. He thanked whatever small mercy there was that he wouldn’t have to deal with any sort of young assholes or stuck-up nobles this time around.

He knew that in this world, miraculous things had been discovered, but never _alive_.

Fantastic beasts that he’d seen in papers but dismissed as farces and fakes, creatures he convinced himself to be myths, beasts he’d fought and killed. It made no difference, he supposed.

He knew of the existence of a few types of beasts; forest-god animals tasked to protect the forest as insanely wise monsters, things that could mimic the voice of any it heard, other creatures able to change shape and colour at will. He’d seen the monsters of the ocean in the form of huge whales like ships and gigantic octopi that were almost as long as three palm trees consecutively. He’d heard talk of fish who could walk and become lizards, and even sea beasts that would eat you alive if they saw you which he could put down to anything _like_ _a shark_.

But never in all his time had he seen a mermaid or a siren, or encountered someone who had. No, instead there were mauling’s washed ashore like some grotesque bear had become water-based and ship that turned up with carefully placed holes in the hull, too small to find and too large to fix.

This thing was strong and smart, and that was what worried the famously self-named Hog in the dark of a new moon. It was a black night, fit for nothing more than sleeping or driving yourself crazy. The stars were a solace in the dark but inky black water found a way up onto his deck none the less. He was thankful again that at the least his boat still sat the deck a good meter out of the water and that the boat itself, asides from being packed full, was relatively roomy. He could not sleep until he was moored, he knew, or he may drift dreadfully off course.

The following night was only marginally better, but the bite of cold air hit his skin like ice after spending a hot day on deck in the sun. He couldn’t decide if it was better or worse but he dreaded the storm that he could feel on the wind.

The storm was harsh but it was on the horizon, the waters choppy despite that. He still had one more night of sailing before he would reach the island and his now sleepless mind was going to crave sleep once he got there. So long as he was sea-bound though, his eyes refused to close.

The next night was abnormally dark, void of even the occasional starlight through clouds, a sliver of waxing moon all but there at all, barely cutting through a cloud every few hours. He didn’t bother straining his eyes and knew there were no rocky waters where he should be. He knew the waters like the back of his hands.

A few swinging lanterns lit the boat in splashes of orange and red lights, illuminating the short deck and the masts sails in moving shadows.

He could see well where he was going and felt nothing towards the idea of stopping or halting but that moment was the first inkling of something dangerous in the back of his mind, it sent a small prickle down his arms.

A splash right next to the boat, like dolphins almost, sounded but rang far too long to be normal as if something very long had surfaced then resubmerged itself.

It was the second time he heard it on the other side that he began to worry and upon looking overboard had been met with the sight of disappearing light, the colour of bright corals or perhaps flowers streaking in his eyes.

He deemed it to be a hallucination when he arrived early morning into the next set of docks, but the image wouldn’t leave him. Strange markings imprinted themselves under his eyelids and he was shocked that even such a normal noise outside of the normal setting could send even such a feeling along his skin.

Once he’d sufficiently slept then restocked and resupplied for the second journey, he came to the decision that he had not been hallucinating from a lack of sleep. He came to a very dead set conclusion in particular.

Etched in the railing, near his mark as a one-man captain where he stood to steer the ship, were unnaturally deep claw marks, a few splintered pieces of wood sticking out slightly at the outer edge.

He was ultimately worried, but not for himself. He was worried about the shipment, his own docks, his charge and his merit would be void if he were to go down and out in such well known waters.

He refused that fate and instead embraced his self-proclaimed name: Hog. After all, all that he conquered and sailed was his and it was well known that he kept it to himself and kept alone more than not, unless money was involved. He was a mercenary and a captain, adept at more than most people took his mask value for.

Regardless, the following two days were spent at the island before he set out again, a foreboding feeling settling in his gut as the early morning darkness crept beneath light clothing in the form of cold tendrils. Frosted breath misted in front of him, despite his mask it still clouded into the air. Steam rose from hot skin and on noticing it he could only laugh to himself, the day would be hot as hell.

He could already feel the moisture clinging to his skin like a second coating of sweat by the time the sun rose properly, his mask only making it harder to breathe. The heat was nothing though compared to his home, a home he was long since outcast from. It was nostalgic almost, of years spent hunting for a good cause before he became a killer for hire.

A bittersweet mix of tastes correlated on his tongue, like a soured fruit might have once done, and he was contorted between pleasantries and un-pleasantries behind his eyelids.

Love was a cold mistress prone to killing and he knew that there was no salvage in the wreckage of his chest, a broken smoking pillar giving way to ashen death when he was young, only killing with more fervent cruelty as he grew older. His love lay too deep in the ocean, an odd irony for who he had become as a dock master.

Yet still, the day left a mix of salt and sweat on his skin, the sea breeze offering some sick salvation from the problems of man that he had acquainted himself well with. He wasn’t going to lie, he wanted to take his headpiece off just for once, feel the breeze and the dying light, see the real colours of the world, but the promise of a marred figure greeting the daylight was something he never wanted to truly face.

He rejoiced in his loneliness, free for the moment on the sea with a steady breeze in his sail and a clear horizon. It was enough to make the man feel young again in the most heartbreakingly sweet way.

His skin absorbed the heat like well-known, old red rocks would once have long ago, or at least the way he remembered they did. His skin didn’t do much better in that factor, red marring his shoulders and arms before fading into a pallid white in his palms and wrists. His darkened and burnt in tan made the constant straps he wore obvious, running rampant with bright white stripes stained in like aggravatingly accurate mapped-out lines on his skin, marked on with a straight certainty that he’d never get his skin back to some variation of ‘not stripy’.

Glove lines even marked his wrists and, less surprisingly, the lines of his masks own straps were burnt into his skin so deeply that they would never quite tan out. A few other places, particularly his pants and belt, left white lines and particularly noticeable tan lines on his skin but honestly he could care so much less; it was just another facet of who he was.

How long had it been since he’d seen a sunset with his own two eyes though, not beneath the glazed lenses that protected and shielded his hurting eyes? He could not remember the exact colour of blue that he was meant to see in the sky without the grey, nor the way that the sea looked without that tint.

Just once, alone, this once he would take this mask off and let his sun starved face feel the sunlight again.

Just once he promised himself.

Clips unfastened carefully but steadily, with a mechanical movement that went once a week in a tiny locked bathroom for washing purposes. No mirror graced that room and he liked it that way considering the last response he’d ever had to his face, a gross and pale artificial light making his skin look sickly. He loathed looking at himself, but who was he to care if he had all he wanted?

A marred monster nightmare of a mercenary, fit to be the devil or so he’d heard.

He relished the feeling of the wind on his cheeks and forehead, the way the sunset stung his eyes with pinks and purples and bright oranges. The blue of the ocean burnt itself into his eyes and the scene was enough to satiate his purpose. He became lost for a few moments in time, precious moments he might call them, in the visage of something he once might have had a nicer word for.

And it was all shattered by a voice sounding behind him, far too close and far too loud.

Silently, this creature had come aboard, watched the even stranger possible human still like a statue. Watched him unfasten many clips and, like a child, open his eyes to the scene in front of him like he’d never seen it before; watched him stand still with some sense of awestruck serenity, a soft smile gracing marred lips and tusk-like teeth. Watched him relish the feeling of the breeze in his whitened hair as though he had been starved of such a feeling.

He’d never seen a man so battle-wounded look so oddly beautiful, never seen a human so inhuman, so different to the contorted faces that dealt death like the sea dealt waves. The sea creature thought he was absolutely stunning and, in a moment of forgetfulness, sighed a small sound into the too-silent air.

Hog’s heart pounded in his ears like a twisted wood-chopping thump, a little too slow as he whipped his head around, eyes alit with something akin to anger or shame, somewhere between startled and significantly worried. It reminded the sea-dweller of a cornered and caged animal, a reckless abandon gracing the humans movements.

Hog watched with a horrid curiosity as the creature sunk back into the sea with a slight jump and a scramble, it seemed to fall back to the water below and for once he saw the truly bright colours on its’ hide.

He could not see anything other than that sunset glowing into the depths and disappearing as the night fell once again. Haste and anxiety pushed him to fasten his mask again, a few fumbling gestures meeting the clips with wildly harsh breaths forcing themselves out of his lungs.

The burning on his shoulders and arms reminded him of the suns bite, the sting in his eyes and cheeks of the colours he forgot until now, always seeing them through a hard grey layer. He hated to admit a thing about those colours, but if he were to die tonight, if that creature were to kill him tonight, maybe it’d be okay just _this_ time. The creature was bright like avid sunshine and he couldn’t quite bring himself to think it a bad thing.

A week passed and he’d arrived home already four days ago, a gnawing feeling in his stomach. The lights here seemed like clusters of nothing in comparison to the gorgeous lights he saw out there and the greyed haze of man-made fog made him feel claustrophobic like it was suffocating him, stone grey paths and dark buildings doing nothing for his rest despite being called his home.

 The more he thought about it, the blur he’d seen seemed to have a pale skin lit with luminescent markings. Hair? A humanoid fish?

He could think of only the possibility that it was a siren or a mermaid from legends, but those things ate humans as far as he knew and sang people into their doom for that matter, coaxing them to their death.

With a fervour he’d possessed many times he began to set up shipments when he heard that no attacks were occurring since he’d set out. Ship after ship returned from other longer voyages that week and he was mildly glad that at least that thing wasn’t taking out his business anymore.

The _problem_? He wanted to see it _properly_. What did its’ face look like? Was it truly a monster? Was it marred and scarred, broken into some alien looking farce mimicking a human? Was it like he was?

His curiosity had piqued like nothing ever had since his younger exploring days and it was almost thrillingly dangerous. He wanted to taste whatever sickness was eating away at his chest and stomach, let that adrenaline flow into his system again like he’d chased years ago. Nostalgia didn’t quite describe this feeling; no for once he wanted something for _himself_ again.

Another week passed successfully before he set a trusted colleague in his place while he set out on a supposed _delivery_ alone. _Again_.

A full moon graced the night finally and, despite his greyed vision, it was quite pretty to look at. If he tried he could picture the dark blue and black of the night sky reflecting the oceans waves. He moored not far from the islands’ docks on the opposite side of the island, the wild side a good day of sailing north, away from anyone who should recognise him or what he was doing. Few people came here and fewer dared follow him. He did find that strange though, that no ships moored or loitered here. It had been named as cursed but he had always travelled just fine; he could never quite put his finger on it.

He took refuge at an offshore outcropping of rocks, sand and trees, a tiny island just big enough to hide a small shack house and a mooring that he’d dug in himself.

The night passed peacefully but he couldn’t rid the itch under his skin like _it_ was out there, _waiting_ for him. He made numerous short trips to the boat and found nothing, falling into sleep willingly just before daybreak.

He awoke to a new scratch along his deck, as if something had scrabbled to climb aboard and over to the helm. He found wet tracks drying in the morning sun, an almost slimy substance more watery than anything else. All traces of actual _water_ seemed to dry up, but not this. Perhaps it was some sort of chemical the creature made to preserve the water on its’ skin, stop it from drying out? Then perhaps it could survive for a short time on land or out of water, he supposed.

On the other hand though, the other creature of this risky encounter was doing less well. He’d been itching to see this particular human again, the _others_ never bothered with the world above anyway and he had just been annoyed at all the ships interrupting his nights with their big metal cannonballs and fire-born _death_ aimed at each other at random.

He figured it’d just be easier to kill them off if he happened to see them, then one or two become lots and to say he was fascinated by the explosions those barrels of black powder made was an understatement.

Hell, he’d lost an arm to the stuff but maybe he was just a masochist he figured, he kind of thought it was cool after all, even if it _had_ been hard to swim at first. No others of his kind would associate with him after that mess, particularly and especially when he’d brought pieces of the human world down for purposes such as fascination and discovery.

He was an entrepreneur, could they not see?  He would make these human devices work beneath the waves somehow, and at one stage he had managed, only to have it explode on him.

He had laughed at first but it never seemed to grow on anyone else and eventually he stopped caring and started wondering and may have or may have not gotten very, very lost, caught up in a human net then transported some god forsaken place and narrowly escaped.

May have.

A giggle erupted from his chest when he thought about that though, how estranged the crew had been at the time, a bleeding living myth on their deck biting into nearby men and clawing its way off-board.

Did he mention he was considered a _myth_ among men? Yeah, that was pretty fuckin _cool_ if he was honest and he _liked_ _to scare them_. Sent a good long shiver of adrenaline down his tail and it made him twist and turn in the waters like they were his own, a serpentine body with the likeness of a long dead ancient shark hurdling at a rapid pace through water.

Bright colours warned of poison, orange like his eyes and the fire he grew to love. It striped across his torso in waves and dots, reminded him of the carvings he’d seen on some of the ships he’d sunk with how intricate they were. Who was he kidding, they were _awesome_. _He_ was awesome.

Unbeatable was the word that coursed through his veins, luminescence pulsing and writhing with the beat of his heart. Each stripe coursed from his tail to his shoulders, a mess of work that almost looked like scars if not for the real scars that set the lines apart from each other.

He was oddly symmetrical and he’d overheard during his time of capture that it was rare to find such markings on any living thing, like some sort of code had etched his skin, whatever a ‘ _code’_ was.

He assumed it must have meant something good though, because on hearing how awestruck they were of he who was so outcast, so disliked for his looks and his own self after the discovery of the human world, set his heart ablaze with _pride_. He was a _rare_ thing, a _special_ thing, even if they were going to kill him. His resolve to die had shattered with the fact that he was actually something _amazing_ and _nothing_ would take that back.

He clawed his way off that ship with a twisted grin and a lanky snaking body, ripped fins and all.

He didn’t know what he was, didn’t resemble anything really.

He had skin like a shark or perhaps a whale with how tough it was, but a body like an oarfish. His flared gills and silky fins were like that of reef fish, while he swam less like a fish and more like a snake. His fins were nearly useless to him the way he swam, and he had been taught that it was improper to use such methods of the body to get around, that he should have been showing his fins with pride and using minimal effort to move around.

That way of swimming made the others weak and slow, he concluded.

Undulating purposefully to use the water to push him forwards, fins flattened and streamlined, arms carefully by his sides alike to the way a sharks fins might have been positioned at its’ helm. He rarely found a use for the strange mass that fanned at the end of his tail, or the ones that lined his back, and habitually flattened the softer glowing masses into their spined and flattened form along his back.

That whole habit was another mess entirely when his old so called society had found out. He was nothing like them, something from somewhere else and where they all had _something_ to link them up his only connection was his humanoid face and upper body. His other half didn’t mesh well at all, and when he figured out his softer delicate fins with a slight tensing could be drawn together into spines at will like any well trained muscle he put that knowledge into practice and showed whoever would listen.

The first response was positive, from a spined stickleback type who’d always fancied being able to have flowing, gorgeous fins like some of the fighter-fish species. The next response was from one of those particular fighter-type species who was positively pissed off that they too couldn’t do the same thing by flexing _their_ muscles.

It had screeched his old name at him, alerted the higher-ranks to another possible discretion. A _lie_ was piled onto the truth, saying that he’d used the flat spined ridges to inflict harm on them.

The memory from before his arm had healed sent a tingle of anger through him which bubbled out in a manic giggle that he didn’t mean to let loose.

On the other hand, he had finally arrived at the island that he’d watched the ship of that one interesting human dock at; followed it to.

It was late and he was only worried that this human might try to catch and kill him a _little_ more than he liked. He watched the huge figure walk between hut and boat many times, and affirmed that this was the right human, but that cursed black thing adjourned his face again, obstructing it from the merman’s view.

He carefully approached the ship, clamouring aboard with his good arm scrabbling at any possible handhold and his stub providing at least a little more leverage onto the deck. His body felt slightly heavy out of water but he wasn’t complaining, he supposed.

He dragged himself along the worn decking to the part of the boat where the steering was meant to happen, where he’d last seen the human facing the open sunset.

No luck, the guy had gone back inside again. It only took him another few moments to decide on an absolutely stupid resolution; he would go _inside_ the hut.

And _inside_ he went, his body working like a snake to get him over the sand, twisting up the short expanse to the hut. His skin dried, but it did not feel horrid or unpleasant like he remembered others describing it. In fact, asides from the sand, the whole thing of being on land almost felt natural and normal, his skin simply drying like a snakes might have, his scales smooth yet hard against the ground.

 He eventually, after a little more strain and effort, figured out how to move himself around upright instead of clawing and nubbing his way along the sand on his arms. It took a few attempts, but moving along the sand was a lot like swimming, he just had to twist and actually use all the muscle he’d built up to get himself over the soft sand. He looked like some strange snake-man, he thought, moving around upright like humans with a body like his.

The discomfort, though, was in his fins as the water clung to them and he had to strain to flare them out; get the sand off the sensitive skin, hair on his head making itself a known irritance when it clung to his cheeks and ears.

He made his way to the huts’ open door and was greeted by the huge figures’ sleeping frame in the darkness, a hitch in his breath coming as he realised just how big this human was compared to his thin frame.

It was by no means any longer, of course that just wasn’t happening, but compared to his own thin frame this thing looked like a beast of a man. He thought about it momentarily; yeah, _he was into_ _that_.

He couldn’t find a spare space and long previously on the beach had dried properly, none of his particular water-preserving mucus wet anymore. It had dried on him and was effectively acting like a protective layer between his scales keeping moisture in.

Quietly and carefully, he maneuvered into the small and dark space beneath the humans’ bed, curling up into a small coil. He had never slept on land and regularly stayed awake at night, but this human was asleep and he was vouching that despite the dark horizon, sunrise wasn’t far off; he attempted to adopt the comfy curled up position as best he could for sleeping, it really wasn’t long before he drifted off to the lullaby of the waves on the shore and the figure aboves’ deep breaths and soft snores.

When the mer-creature awoke again it was to the large figure above him creaking itself off the cot and half lumbering, half hastily walk-running outside. Perhaps it was looking for a weapon? Maybe he should leave?

Slumped shoulders and a still sleepy figure seemed to say otherwise though as, eventually, the human returned looking crestfallen. Heavy weight dropped onto the cot and it creaked under his weight; was the human unhappy that they hadn’t met again properly?

Hog sighed, rubbed his hands up along his neck, rough calloused hands a familiar sensation on his now-tanned and less burnt skin.

He was sure that the creature must have been close at some stage, but where? Why? Did it want to hurt him?

It hadn’t yet but he couldn’t help the anxiety in his stomach, like excitement or fear and he couldn’t tag it as either. It was thrilling and he wasn’t sure whether to call himself mad or stupid. Was he kidding himself? The thing could be some joke for all he knew, all he wanted to believe, but that beautifully bright orange glow always sprang to mind. It couldn’t be faked.

This mystical thing couldn’t be made up by some half assed individuals this long, he knew that much at the least.

A soft intake of breath that wasn’t his drew his attention, stopped his own breathing for a moment, and sent his heart into overdrive. His skin prickled slightly and he froze up; did he look?

He stood up a little lethargically, his body felt like lead almost, sluggish. He moved a little too quick and made himself a little dizzy but managed to shut the door and simultaneously get down far enough to catch a glimpse of the unmistakeable glow beneath his cot. It was _here._ For how long?

He coughed awkwardly, trying to get a few words out to the startled, bright eyed creature and stuttering to a stop.

“Uh hey, mate.” A shy grin echoed in a playful giggle towards him, a thick and unknown accent twisting his words in some strange familiar way.

When did ‘it’ become ‘him’?

“…Hi.” Hogs’ deep voice rumbled out and he sank to the floor, back to the door and legs crossed. He waved his hand a little awkwardly, not really sure what to do anymore, now that he had this creature where he wanted it. The wave lethargically turned into a soft neck scratch, a nervous habit he’d developed.

The glowing creature began the small trek of dragging itself out from under the cot, an ease gracing his movements that Hog couldn’t quite describe.

Before Hog could quite realise it, the creature had picked his way far too close and he had nowhere to go with his back against the wall. Its’ hand was too soft for his rough skin, felt strange with claws that reminded him how easily this thing could kill him.

The creatures’ long body stretched along the short expanse of floor, a good amount of it still beneath his cot. He was breathless for the first time in too long and didn’t know how to react to the caress.

“Oy buddy, what’s wrong?” The scratchy voice sounded oddly pleasant in Hogs’ ears, fiery eyes seemingly staring straight through his mask, inquisitive and intelligent looking.

Hog forgot to reply until the caress began to slide further up and onto his mask, a panic rising in his gut slightly. “Nothing’s wrong,” his gruff voice replied, “How long were you ‘ere?”

The creature withdrew its’ hand to sweep it through its’ own hair in thought, humming softly and sitting back into a small coil, the tail end disappearing under the bed. “Prob’ly since just b’fore sunrise.” He decided.

Hog grunted in response, a huff of air puffing out of the mask slightly as acknowledgment. Why did his face feel so hot?

“I’m Jamison, by the way, at least I was way back before I got swept up and moved ‘ere, fuckers, I never like ‘em that much but y’know th’ last time I was call’d that name was years ‘go, what’s your name? I forgot to ask, fuck me, what’s polite to you humans anyway? S’I meant t’ knock or somethin’ ‘fore I came in? Sorry abou’ that but you’re fuckin’ huge what if ya tried t’ kill me? I didn’t know if yous was safe to go near but anyways why do you wear that mask s’much? You’re gorgeous, what’s up wi’ that? Can you take it off again? Why was you alone ou’ there? Shit, am I askin’ too much? Y’can call me whatever ya want by the way, um….”

Hog was a little overwhelmed, the creatures rambling was adorable and the more he pushed the thought away the more it pushed back at him. Jamison. If this thing was going to tell him what it ‘was’ called, he figured the curtesy was his own name in return.

“I’ll call you sunshine for now…” he grumbled, unsure what else to name him if he didn’t want Jamie or Jamison and for now that was all he could think of due to the patterns glowing all over him. “I was called Mako once, but I guess you can call me whatever you want as well. I go by Hog.” It felt odd to talk so much about himself, even if he barely had said anything.

Jamison’s eyes lit up at his name, his lips twisting around the word to himself and his teeth clinking slightly as he tried to say it right. “Mah…koh. Mako. Like the shark…” He mumbled, grinning.

It took a moment but the words ‘mask’ and ‘gorgeous’ sank in very slowly, then ‘why don’t you take it off’ also sank in. “Why would I take it off?”

He was baffled.

“You’re beaut’ful.” He deadpanned, accent curling the words up a little in Hogs’ ears.

Hog was stunned, never in his life had he been called ‘beautiful’. He didn’t know whether to be angry or embarrassed. Scary, intimidating, monstrous, even hot once or twice in his younger days, but never gorgeous or beautiful.

“…S’I not meant t’ say that?” his voice inquired, soft as though he’d tread a little too heavy on something he shouldn’t have. His hearing picked up the harsh beating pound of a heart in the humans’ chest, Makos’ chest. His lungs were heaving lightly, drawing in long breaths of air.

He shook his head lightly, “Jus’… not sure what t’ do with that.” He admitted, a soft huff like a laugh coming out.

Jamison was in front of him again, crossing the space with ease, his lithe body holding itself up with absurdly precise movements. A small soft hand ran across the worn leather mask, a nubby forearm bracing up against his chest. Hog was surprised more at the utter softness of the arm against his chest, the way that there was almost no pressure on him at all as if Jamison was actually trying to calm him rather than lean on him.

The mer-mans’ skin wasn’t cold like he’d assumed it would be, but it felt like it was room temperature; colder than he was anyway. It was strange to be so pliant, let someone so close let alone something that could singlehandedly take down a full sized platoon.

He felt the soft fingers trace the lines of his mask on his skin; it sent a tiny shiver through him that he would never admit to. He needed to put a stop to this, but why risk angering him? He only seemed curious after all.

The same soft fingers ran higher still, up along his neck a little too softly and through greasy hair, or at least what Hog himself considered greasy. They traced more straps over his skin, striving to find clips. Why wasn’t he stopping it from doing so?

More of the long serpentine body unfurled from beneath the bed, an obscenely long body built for preying and swimming sliding forward to curl up against him. Scales were cool against his skin, the creature coiling against him like a snake but careful not to wrap around and startle him it seemed.

Jamison nudged the humans’ legs out so he didn’t crush them so much as he thought he was while they were crossed; it really wasn’t all that much effort for him. He still couldn’t believe how passive this giant was being, how relaxed he seemed to stay for him. He was baffled to say the least, but he’d never seen a human like this one or one so close either.

Hog felt dazed, the scales soft but the muscle underneath a promise of something that could strangle and kill him a little too easily if he let it. He felt too comfortable, but it was so nice. What was the harm anyway? No human wanted to be near. The creatures’ belly pressed against his own, forearm finding purchase on his shoulder as Jamison relaxed more onto him, his good arm working a hand through Hogs hair gently, trying to pry the mask clips loose carefully.

He found a comfort in the slide of soft skin against his own, a touch starved longing fulfilled. Hog was yet unsure as of whether he should really be okay with this, whether he should stop it all now and take this creature as a trophy or not. Inquisitive eyes burning in his memory wouldn’t let him go that direction with his thoughts, and those colours were just through the mask itself.

He was lost in thought and the feeling of scales and soft skin on his own when he heard the click of a fastener clip letting loose on his mask. His pulse picked up a notch, nervousness creeping into him still. He had his hands on the ground by his sides still, Jamisons’ scaled body carefully wedged between his arms and body as if to keep him upright; curiously he ran a hand across the creatures side. Lithe muscle and thin, flexible bones lay beneath tough yet soft skin, raised scars lining his side and with a moment of realisation Hog recalled that this was his injured side, the one he lost part of his arm to. That was why the scarring was so thick.

He carefully felt the way skin faded to scales at the curious creatures’ hip, and then ran his hand back upwards. He could see the vibrant coloured striped on the creatures’ skin and once he felt the tiny different he could distinguish between scar, skin and pattern. Where his scars were raised expanses and abstract lines, his skin was slightly rough to the touch like it was perhaps a little dry and his patterns and stripes were velvet soft, flat expanses of carefully curled lines. He noted that his scales felt much like a snakes’ as well, the fading of skin to scale guided by tiger stripes and dots in a seamless fashion.

Another clip went, the creatures’ body shivering at Hogs’ own version of curiosity returned in kind. He felt it run right down the tail length of the creatures’ long body, down to the smooth flattened end curled up his back.

He smiled softly beneath his mask; perhaps this was okay after all.

They had stopped speaking, but sat in a comfortable silence that for once neither felt obligated to break. Hog felt no need to fill the silence, and Jamison was too preoccupied figuring out the last clip on Hogs’ mask.

His breath hitched a little as he felt his mask loosen up and begin to be tugged up and off, his eyes cast aside and his hair wild, resignation to his figure. His mask clattered to the ground beside him.

Soft fingers brushed along his chin where stubble stubbornly grew despite his two-nights-ago attempt to rid himself of it for the comfort of his mask.

Jamisons’ hand brushed along his jaw, upwards further, softly. Gently. Fingers searched and felt along each scar on his face, each different story running down his neck.

Soft touches felt along his nose, brushed lightly over a closed eyelid and a thick eyebrow, ran sideways into hairline and along his ear again while one half open eye dared to look up at the creature who dared to be so tender towards him. He was awestruck at the emotion he saw written there in such a way he could not pull his gaze away.

The same fingers brushed back down over cheekbones to prod questioningly at his fat lips, trace a line of scars down across each one and run across a tusk curiously. Hogs’ hands rested at Jamisons’ hips, holding him comfortably like he hadn’t really held anyone before. His curious touch guided Hogs’ head to turn and bare his throat to his gaze and touch, a hand sliding along the more awkward opposite side of Hogs’ face, mimicking what he had done to the other side, tracing each healed cut along the jawline of something so precious, following the stubble upwards, brushing along his other ear and petting down straggling strands of hair.

Warmth radiated from the human and he curled against it more noticeable he supposed, willingly letting himself rest his full weight on Hog now. It didn’t even faze the human, but he was glad for it to be that way. He was lost in a pale land of intrigue, this mans’ face coloured so starkly different to the tan on his arms, chest and back; the way that the strap-lines stood out equally as noticeable whilst Hog was void of his equipment.

Hogs’ eyes were closed, a calm settling over him that he wasn’t used to but could almost make-believe he might become accustomed to. Soft, wet skin pressed against his forehead and his eyes opened to the view of a pale chest, some parts freckled, others spackled with scars and an array of beautifully bright and symmetrical patterns. The colour was like sunshine, a sunset or sunrise was all he could chalk the colour up to. Nothing else was quite right.

He realised that the creature had kissed his forehead and a soft, wry smile worked onto his lips, a huff of a laugh coming out again in a hot breath of air. Jamison shivered as it hit his skin, an odd sensation but not one he minded in slightest.

“What, m’I that funny?” He joked, voice too soft to really put up any aggression or anything but a relaxed playfulness to his tone. “I don’t really know what you humans do, but this is a kiss.” He stated, a waver in his voice like he was only about ninety percent sure of that.

Hog shook his head, smiling softly at the creatures’ shy expression. If he looked closely, a soft orange red had tinted its’ cheeks and he decided that Jamison really wasn’t so different from a human person. At least, the upper body of him anyway.

A soft tug got Jamison back down further, laying on Hogs’ stomach again. His head was now closer to Hogs’ head, precisely what was intended.

Bright colours seemed multifaceted the more Hog looked, an array from yellow to dark orange flecking in each stripe and dot, shining magnificently in his eyes. A soft hand still cupped his jaw and the nub still rested on his shoulder; hog gently with his knuckle angled Jamisons’ head forwards a little more, pressing his lips against Jamisons’ own in a proper kiss; soft and testing.

Hog couldn’t help feeling a little over-size for this creature, but said creature was also far stronger and more durable than he looked and for that Hog had to give him a lot of credit, all things considered.

Jamison was slightly startled when such a large hand so gently directed his head, when scarred lips were so gentle and how the tusks barely mattered to him. His own sharp teeth could probably carve up this human but he still found the tusks so interesting, pleasant he would say. He liked this.

He chuckled softly, “Wha’ was that for, then?”

“ _That_ was a kiss, sunshine.” A deeper, proper laugh echoed out of the rumble of Hogs’ chest, a chuckle, a soft smile and the nickname stuttering Jamisons’ brave demeanour.

“That’s how it’s meant t’ be? Well fuck me sideways nobody nevah told me that, if I known sooner might’ve just done that in th’ firs’ place.” He grinned, his voice a little louder but in no means any less relaxed.


	2. Sea Brine

Hog couldn’t keep a smile from curling his lips; he couldn’t remember the last time he fell into such a vulnerably comfortable state and he couldn’t deny that he liked the way it wrapped him up, sent warmth into his chest and gut. One large hand cupped the creatures’ face softly, easily fitting his head into his palm, whilst the other remained on the creatures’ hip.

The embrace was soft, tender, but misleading. Hog was sure he would do this with nothing else, would fall into no such state with nothing else. No _one_ else; this ray of sunshine was not a _thing_ , he was a _him_.

His nose crinkled when soft lips brushed over it; Jamison was feeling with his lips like a shark might have and it seemed cute to Hog at first but when he thought about it the motion was probably just normal for a creature such as himself. Hog had no quarrels with the soft seeking, dropping his hand again to the other hip and letting the blonde-haired boy kiss over his cheeks with feather light touches, letting him touch and feel just seemed pleasant by this stage. Relaxing.

His small hand traced rough scars on Hogs’ shoulders subconsciously, like it was mapping out his skin the way a cartographer pictured a winding map of the land against the sea in their mind and it was endearing to Hog that he might seem to care even a little bit about what marred him in other peoples’ minds.

It was a startling realisation that nobody that had ever been interested in _Mako_ had wanted _tender_. Hogs’ brain stuttered into a frenzy as it ran through past one-nighters and short lovers; not a single one had wanted _tender._ Rough, masochistic tendencies ran through the small outliers that wanted him, but nobody that wanted _him_ wanted more than to fulfil some twisted fantasy.

When had he become okay with that?  
  
Why did the words of one ethereally amazing creature change that?

Questions swirled in his head and his eyes flickered back and forth between closed eyelids, his subconscious dragging him into a distracted state. He had unwittingly froe beneath the creature, a startling dark anger dredging into his chest, devouring the warmth into a hot lava-like burn.

He didn’t know whether it was sadness or anger anymore at what had happened in his life, resignation was just another part of trying to suppress it all again.

He was being eaten alive by his memories and the dark was around him again, choking him, swaying him, taking him again and closing in like a flooding and breaking ships’ hull. He was panicking silently, the world crumbling beneath his eyelids, becoming numb, a frozen body pained with no tells, no signs.

A heartbeat was sluggishly thumping away in his ears, too loud, too fast to keep up with and too slow to get his lungs to breathe again. He was fading.

He realized late that there was a soft voice in his ear.

What was it saying? What voice was that? Who was here with him, in this dark? Nobody…

Nobody called out again, latching onto his conscious and reeling him in like a small fish on a strong line.

It shushed him softly, cooing strange words into his ears that wrapped around his thoughts in a smoky fashion. A song perhaps?

The words sounded like waves crashing on sand, like the ocean was whispering to him. They felt like a cool embrace against the core burning his chest open, prying him apart.

He was vulnerable like this, alone and faced with his true self. No mask, no reputation, to separate them; no hard boundary cutting him off short.

English stammered into his trail, making a little more sense, “Deep breath, mate... shhh, you’re fine, Mako, you’re fine, I’m here…”

He couldn’t pin the voice still but the sensation of a cool body laid against him rattled his brain for an answer he could picture but not put words to. The ocean was here for him the way an old day got washed into a new sunrise. The sunshine boy was whispering to him.

He only lost a moment or two, nearly no time at all, but it both startled and worried the man that such sweet sounds could lull him out of such deep emotions, such dark memories.

He let the creature cradle his head to its’ chest, the smell of the ocean like an imprinted home in his head already and the feeling of being petted lulling him into a softer calm. He questioned such things, the attachment that had grown on him so quickly.

He tried to blame it on anything else, anything at all; magic, pheromones, some siren juju he didn’t know about.

The truth was that his home had already been the ocean, and now the ocean had given him a miracle born of itself that actually appeared to be interested.

“You ‘kay, Mako?” No teasing or playful tone lit his voice, his tongue curling sharp around Makos’ name still, his pitch almost a whisper it was so quiet.

Hog nodded his head against the chest in front of him, bright orange seeping through his eyelids and searing his eyes a little when he opened them. It brought him back again, a slight embarrassment finding its’ way en-route to his cheeks and flushing his body hot with the awkward feeling. The blush spread across his ears and neck first, colouring his chest slightly. He refused to look up.

Jamison giggled softly, holding him close as best he could with his nub and other good arm, fingers stroking through thick hair.

Hog had no idea how long they stayed that way, but didn’t attempt to hide the way he let his own lips touch the mermans chest. His tusks bumped and nudged along with him but his lips found the difference between skin, scar and stripe staggeringly more different than his calloused fingers had first perceived. Occasional giggles from the blonde told Hog where he was ticklish, breathless sounds telling him all else he wanted to know.

He had spent the majority of a single day intimately close with the creature, considered the idea that perhaps he was drunk off it or some vastly different strange effect was being had on him, but no instinct occurred to him that perhaps this was far too quick for what was considered normal.

What was normal anyway? _Fuck normal_ he decided, _this was far from normal._

He tested out the spots that made the creature writhe and buck, letting his teeth graze over sensitive markings lining Jamisons’ chest and sucking progressively harsher marks into the lithe yet soft flesh.

Jamison was breathless to say the least, held in place with a force he couldn’t put down to insane strength alone, baffled at how quickly the time rushed past while he held such an embrace. Hands may have held him still but his body writhed to be _closer_ rather than _further away_. It was insanity, the adrenaline coursing through him ticking off all his flight instincts one by one but he didn’t _want_ to get away. Didn’t _want_ it to stop.

Dark reddish marks littered his chest in patterns that aligned with his stripes and patterns; markings.

His mind screamed at him, berating him for being so close with this thing of an entirely different _species,_ for letting it _mark_ his skin, letting it _take_ as it pleased. It yelled about how things weren’t done _properly_ , how things had been _rushed_ , but on the other hand his body had no complaints whatsoever, each kiss sending varieties of shivers along his skin.

No other had ever been close like this, not really. No other had wanted to be. No other had felt so _right._

He was shocked and pleased, a fog hazing his mind more than he should have let it.

Hogs’ curiosity piqued when a certain slick wetness found itself on his stomach in a cool line against him, smearing with some strange curling movement. It took him a few moments to put it together but he couldn’t blame anything but himself for doing such a thing to this creature, making him the way he was now; shuddering and attentive to every brush of a fingertip, good hand clawing into his back on and off.

Jamison was void of words for once, not even the oceans words of sea brine and crashing waves rambling from his tongue anymore. He had never had such an _embarrassment_ feel _pleasant._

He had never felt a reason past his own occasional urges to so much as _touch_ the coloured protrusion offending the perfect humans skin and more often than not just left it to go away on its’ own. The simple heat radiating off of the skin beneath him though was sending him crazy in a way he didn’t know _how_ to deal with, didn’t quite understand the instinct that drove him to undulate himself against Mako.

He shuddered at the intense feeling that burst into his recognition, something he suddenly couldn’t justify not having had have done earlier. A high whine pushed through his lips when Mako held him still, his eyes roaming in a way Jamison could only think of as greedy or hungry, powerful perhaps might have also worked.

A large hand rubbed a thumb downwards towards the object of Jamisons’ embarrassment, tracing downwards too slowly over the vulnerable flesh of his underside. He dared not move, his body tense in all sorts of strange ways he was more than awkwardly unfamiliar with and beneath the possible scrutiny of the eyes that roamed him his lungs seemed to falter with short breaths.

Hog was more curious about this creature with each passing moment, the coloured appendage fading from a smoky grey base, through white to a soft pink end, coloured markings lining it flushed with bright orangey-yellow colours much like the rest of his body. He couldn’t relate it to anything he’d really seen or felt before, soft ridges flaring at his touch. It was much like a tongue, rigid and firm but mobile in an odd way, like Jamison wasn’t exactly controlling it or _trying_ _to_ at least.

A burbling, pleading noise sounded from the chest above him, serpentine body shivering and shaking to keep still where Hog had placed it, upper body curved over his head and shoulders without really perching on him at all.

A bitten back moan echoed in Hogs’ ears as he continued to search, pressing curious touches and strokes to the creature, a thickening slick covering his hands in what wasn’t an unpleasant way. He wasn’t even going to pretend he didn’t hear the moan above him, and decided he was probably tormenting the poor thing as it was.

He didn’t really know how safe this was, either, so he supposed he’d just figure it out later as he began to jerk the creature off, mimicking what he liked for himself as best he could with the curling appendage, thumbing the taper between his fingers each time. Involuntary moans above him gave him affirmation and encouragement, the tightening of muscles sparing him some warning about how close and how quick this boy was going to empty.

It took very little and he honestly tried to be careful, tried not to be rough which seemed to have worked, but when hips began to stutter into his palm Hog found reason enough to give the boy what he was after with a little more pressure.

Silent curses muttered and moaned open mouthed against Hogs’ neck as, back arched and colours flaring, Jamison came.

He swore he saw sparks like the ones black powder made; his head wasn’t really keeping up with his body as long trails of white dripped down over Hogs’ fist in thick rolls, smearing lewdly.

Hog was still just curious, but he could admit to himself that he liked _this_. He was surprised at the amount that rolled down his knuckles as he stroked the blonde through it; a new experience perhaps resulting in this? He also wondered if this amount was just another ‘normal’ though and made a point to find out about it later, a smirk lifting his lips into a haphazard grin against the abused skin of Jamisons’ chest, kissing softly over the sore-looking marks that resided there.

“Well, sunshine, good job.” He murmured as the creature went limp in his arms, appendage returning to where it had come from at Jamisons’ pelvis, a soft satisfied chuckled greeting his ears as a response before the creature had curled up and fallen asleep cradled in his arms. Hog could have minded the mess, but for the fact that this was a whole new thing to the blonde he let it slide this once. That and it was actually rather cold compared to Hogs’ own body heat. He also didn’t think he would manage to untangle himself from the long coils either, or the strong thin arm that clutched him.

“If I’d ah known… that tha’was wha’ that did… I’d probably uh done it a _lot_ …” The merman snickered sleepily, nuzzling his head into Hogs’ shoulder, positively draped over him.

Hog wasn’t sleepy, but he hadn’t slept well and for the creatures’ sake he had to get some rest while Jamison did too. Besides, it was comfy enough, right?

 _Right_ … Hog nodded off with soft snores and seashore sounds at his ear, forgetting about the mess that was glued to the both of them for now.

Jamison was the first to wake up, Makos’ head rested on his shoulder mirroring the way Jamie laid on his shoulder. Makos’ snores drowned out against the waves noise from outside and Jamison honestly thought that it was adorable.

He took in the way big eyebrows relaxed from a furrowed state and gave way to smoother skin. The way crinkles relaxed on Makos’ face to make him appear less troubled, how large lips fit perfectly with soft cheeks and light stubble, how the angles that cut his cheekbones seemed flawless. He admired the slightly coloured spots that lined Makos’ nose and cheeks like large freckles, perhaps it was a skin thing that Jamison wasn’t aware of or rubbing from the mask for so long.

He took in long eyelashes that were dusting white and dishevelled hair that had remnants of black peppered amongst the salty white that fell over his face. He wondered at the creature before hims’ tusks and teeth, finding them an oddity on a human but endearingly setting Mako apart from the rest.

He liked the way Mako was soft yet strong, the way a seal might be blubbered with a half-tonne of muscle beneath it. He loved the way Mako held him despite being the one who had been being cradled in the first place. He loved the way Mako managed to feel big wrapped up in his coiled embrace, managed to seem big despite being underneath Jamison.

 _He loved the way Mako had marked him_.

What if Mako didn’t know what he’d done? What if he didn’t realise what such a thing meant for Jamison? What if it was a _human custom_?

He panicked quietly, his head returning the few feather-lengths back to Makos’ shoulder while his hand stroked Makos’ hair back from his face. He wasn’t sure how to deal with this feeling, how to identify a love for something so strong as a good positive thing.

The last ‘love’ he’d had was for particularly dangerous algae that sent him into wild hallucinations; it only grew in his old colony far off that he knew of and the come-down was deathly, took him months. He shuddered to remember the pain of the stuff leaving his body, cold creeping into his bones as if it mattered that he wasn’t warm. He was afraid that again this bliss might be ripped away and hurt like that, that maybe this human wasn’t going to stay for him.

His brain took him back to mermaids who had fancied him before he got involved with the stuff, with venturing too far up and out, with getting caught up with humans. How they had told him they wanted _this_ sort of thing and he didn’t understand, too emblazoned with the curiosity of a whole other world, too high off of a venomous drug that was making him sick.

How he had realised too late only to be left alone to his own devices, drowning himself in discoveries and whatever his wanderlust could get a hold of to look at.

It had been years since now, but the thought brought a wave of pain into old scars at the prospect of losing who he’d pined for for nearly a month since his first sighting, what he’d followed even to the danger of human civilisation to watch from beneath the water. Who he’d watched set up every possible crutch for what he was meant to hold up before taking off to this place, searching for _him_.

He hoped against everything he knew that this wasn’t going to hurt, that he wasn’t going to hurt Mako somehow, that they wouldn’t tear each other apart with what they’d just done. Mako could still go back, unmarked.

He could return to his life, no proof of the encounter on him, but Jamison had nothing more to return to but solitude and destroying ships that bothered that solitude, a _marked_ man.

Jamison wouldn’t be able to just get rid of these marks, couldn’t wish them off his skin and wouldn’t even if he could. He loved the way they littered his chest and scattered soft pain on his skin.

This was what he’d missed out on.

He sat back just slightly again, felt a swollen moon pulling the sea in him up and out to the night but stayed still. Makos’ eyes shot open almost in alarm staring back at him, a strangely beautiful grey-blue. He watched as Mako tensed up and then relaxed again, remembering what was going on.

Mako saw bright orange flaring eyes staring at him in the darkness, the long outline of his new acquaintance littered in beautiful orange flares, even the hard flattened spines on his back seemed orange in the dark.

Whatever mess was between them had dried and flaked off almost as soon as Jamison moved, carefully unwinding himself from Mako, reluctant to get up. A wet patch still remained and clung to Hogs’ pants stubbornly, slime-like almost yet somewhat like what had been on his ship.

Watery noises coaxed Hog into a more conscious state as he moved away from the door he’d fallen asleep against, soreness in his shoulders persistently making itself known down his back.

Jamison had the whole land movement thing down pat much better on solid ground than on sand and when he held himself up he was near as tall as Mako, much of his body still coiled on the ground for balance. Clicking noises and wave-like burbles spilt from his mouth and like an excited child he seemed to bounce on the spot, wavering back and forth.

When Hog stood up properly a small hand was tugging his own by the finger out the door, a serpentine body consistently bumping into and nudging him along, urging him to the water.

Hog was a good swimmer for his size, but by no means would he survive if this creature took off with him in the water. The twinkle that seemed to light up Jamisons eyes kept him passive most of the way there but he refused to get any deeper as the beautiful creature lounged and swam with supernatural grace in the water.

Chittering and burbling tried to communicate with Hogs’ English-speaking ears and when Jamison realised that he chuckled at his own foolishness, “You comin’ in or ya gonna sit there like some land-lovin’ fool?”

“I can’t swim so great.” Hog told him softly, his mind remembering he was void of a mask as he took in the vibrant colours of even dark water and sand contrasting each other, the way the moon lit up the night with wonder.

“Well I guess I’ll ‘ave to swim for both of us then.”

Before Hog was really prepared to figure out what that meant he watched long fins flare up out of hard spines the way he pictures a reef fish’s fins might have, coloured in varying reds and yellows. He saw the line of gills along Jamisons’ neck colour up, fashioned into his body like sharks gills. He saw a spiked tail fan out into fighter-fish like locks of fin, took note of the fact that Jamisons’ ears were in fact pointed and curved elfishly, small and optimised for both above and below water noise.

The boy was a natural and mythical wonder in himself.

Jamison prepared himself to swim slowly, the way he saw mothers swim with some of their children way back, how he saw them teach their young to swim properly. Despite Makos’ thick size compared to Jamisons thin frame he’d have no trouble keeping the other afloat if he so desired and so without much other thought he had dragged Hog into the deeper water, nub and good arm alike vicing beneath chubbier arms and wrapping around Hogs’ chest and sides.

Chest to chest his long body adjusted to float the both of them, his tail doing all the work lazily the way he was ‘supposed’ to swim. He stayed within Hogs’ reach of the sand and let his human leg ends drag along the floor.

Hog startled but didn’t fight, putting his arms out as though he were also trying to stay afloat. Jamison kept them upright but he still felt a little odd in water, his toes brushing against sand a small comfort. Jamison kept him afloat easily and Hog realised that at that moment he was in this creatures’ domain, in its’ specialty with it. He could be killed with an ease unbeknownst to man in that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still going, this chapter will have another part!


End file.
